Seven A.M., the usual morning line-upStart on the chores, and sweep 'til the floor's all cleanPolish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine upSweep againAnd by thenIt's, like, seven-fifteenAnd so I'll read a bookOr maybe two or threeI'll add a few new paintingsTo my galleryI'll play guitar and knit and cookAnd basic'lyJust wonder, when will my life begin?Then, after lunch, it's puzzles, and darts and baking...Papier-maché, a bit of ballet, and chess...Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making...Then I'll stretchMaybe sketchTake a climbSew a dressAnd I'll re-read the booksIf I have time to spareI'll paint the wall some moreI'm sure there's room somewhereAnd then I'll brush, and brushAnd brush, and brush my hairStuck in the same place I've always beenAnd I'll keep won'dringAnd won'dringAnd won'dringAnd won'dringWhen will my life begin?Tomorrow night...The lights will appearJust like they do on my birthday each yearWhat is it likeOut there where they glow?Now that I'm olderMother might just let me go...